CHAPEL HILL, NC- We love UNC, but it’s no walk in the park academically! Most students spent a lot of time holed up in the library studying. In honor of midterm season, here’s what where you study says about you!
Davis Library (first and second floor):
You’re studious. You can focus anywhere, and have lots of friends. You make decent grades, but always wonder why you don’t have a higher GPA. Your mom packed your lunch before school every day. You probably have a random major based of the high school classes that you liked. You’re worried you’ll get stuck in a job in that field and be forced to do something you have no real passion for for the rest of your life. You will. You’re going to marry the first person you fall in love with and eventually come to the realization that love isn’t real and truth doesn’t exist. You try to write an insightful novel about this experience, but you have no profound ideas. You die in a nursing home as your one loyal son unplugs your life support because no one can pay to support your vegetative state anymore. It’s what you would’ve wanted anyways. The only way to prevent this is to start eating kale.
Davis Library (top floors):
You loved to study in high school. Probably graduated in the top five percent of your class. Made pretty much all A’s and took every AP your school had to offer. You expected to get into UNC-it wasn’t your first choice. Your GPA is nowhere near where your parents want it to be even though you study upwards of 6 hours a day. You don’t feel happy. You study so your brain stops yelling at you. You’ll end up in your dream job-the job you always wanted to grow up to be. You’ll marry the perfect person for your ideal life. But you’ll never be fulfilled. When your kids leave for college (one boy, one girl, both valedictorians and state ranked athletes in swimming and tennis, respectively) you decide to take up a dark hobby. A sinful hobby. It will start small…online poker or shoplifting from TJ Maxx…but it will grow. Eventually you’ll be arrested and be charged with a 30-year sentence. You will never vote again. Your partner bails you out of jail because money isn’t an issue. You both live to be old and die in your home peacefully, but have extreme resentment towards each other. Your children are too busy to visit. The only way to prevent this is to stop studying like a maniac.
You’re from North Carolina. Your high school wasn’t as hard as UNC is. You knew that coming into it. That’s why you chose the J-school. You have one sibling at another college in the ACC or SEC conference. They always make fun of UNC sports and you hate it. They will surpass you in every significant way and your parents will love them more for it. You resent them. You know you should be good at your major, but you’re too scared of failure to apply yourself. You have a few friends in Greek life, and they always invite you out, but your God-complex keeps you from going. You will marry into a rich family and probably never have to put your skills to work. That doesn’t scare you. You’ll live in a nice house and that nasty God-complex will keep you sane until you die by asphyxiation as a result of taking too many barbiturates and throwing up in your sleep. The only way to prevent this is to transfer.
Hanes Art Center:
You’re whimsical. You like to take adventures, and drive around just for the heck of it. You have a VSCO, and you use all the twitter slang. You’ve always wanted more tattoos. You’re a humanities major and always make jokes about how you don’t care about money, but you do. You’re scared. You are stuck in a life of continuously negative what-ifs. Studying abroad is the highlight of your college experience and the peak of your life. After you graduate, you move to NYC and meet a rich person. You fall in love with them. But they’re married. They leave their partner and you think that’s kind of crazy but remember-you’re whimsical so you go with it. The two of you escape to Europe together to live in a villa in Florence. You wake up early one Saturday and go to the market to pick up some fresh bread and fruit. When you return home your partners ex-spouse is there. Your partner is dead. They were shot point blank in their sleep. You beg the ex-spouse to shoot you too. They know that killing you would only end your suffering. And they want you to suffer. They leave you alone and you live to 80, spending your final days painting and mourning your late partner. These grief-ridden paintings make you a ridiculously famous artist, but only posthumously. The only way to prevent this is to delete your VSCO.
You’re political; but you aren’t a politician. You like to study how things work. You’re an air sign. People fall in love with you but you don’t ever feel like you’re in love. You have a strained relationship with your father. You’re extremely defensive when people criticize you. You have high hopes for yourself, and have a lot of self-respect. Your mother taught you to be that way. You get your first job at 23 at a starting salary of $90,000. As a result of your extreme loneliness, you throw yourself into your work. Climbing the corporate ladder, you realize that nothing will fill the hole growing in your chest where affection lives. Not even your cat, who has a human name. You think that’s quirky. It’s not. You decide to join a local improv group to improve your people skills. You catch on quickly and it becomes the best part of your week. After a few years of improv, you decide to quit your job and move to Chicago to pursue your comedy career. After a few years working small gigs, you finally get a Netflix special. Comedy is your life now. You spend many hours of the day going in and out of coffee shops and stores observing people’s lives, interactions, and conflicts, in hopes of writing another Netflix-worthy special. Some people recognize you. Some don’t. Year after year passes and you just can’t be funny anymore. Nothing is left. Coffee shops turn to bars as days turn into nights. One night, you’re eating alone in your one-bedroom apartment and you choke on a Mini Wheat. You die alone with your only companion watching. It’s your fifth cat, Neil. The only way to prevent this is to name your cat something normal.
Kenan-Flagler Business School:
You want me to say that everything will go right. Win, Win, Win. That’s all it’s ever been. But has it? Are you happy? Do you feel valid? Do you do anything interesting in your free time other than drink copious amounts of alcohol because “alcoholism doesn’t count until after college?” Well, considering the B-schools grade inflation and wide spread history of nepotism, your life will go right. Societally. You’ll graduate and get a job with a starting salary of $160,000. You’ll have a beautiful partner and wonderful kids. But you’ll never know them. You become drunk with power at your work. Your partner divorces you. They take the kids. Your start drinking again. You black out and wake up in mysterious places, with no clue how you got there. You start hearing voices, seeing things. You can’t sleep anymore. You start to see a therapist, and they put you on meds, but the meds don’t work. You stop drinking, and the hallucinations get worse. One morning you come to behind a Waffle House with a mysterious tattoo. The tattoo brings back years of forgotten memories. Strange creatures abducting you in the night, taking you to their ship, running all kinds of tests on you. This is your breaking point. You move into a cardboard box in Times Square, because the aliens are scared of advertisements. They’ll never find you here. One day, your partner walks past you with a new spouse. You wonder where your life went. You calmly walk through the timeline of your life only to realize the aliens were crack rock cocaine all along. Stay safe. The only way to prevent this is to take up parkour.
You eat a lot of Alpine!